


queensbury rules

by mimesere



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimesere/pseuds/mimesere
Summary: Barnes and Azu don't talk about fight club (but everyone else does).
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	queensbury rules

The only warning Cel gets is when Sassraa shifts over a few inches without looking up from the exhaust manifold they’re fiddling with before Carter drops down into the space they’ve left, bumping up against Cel’s folded legs. He’s shoved a hat on his head and shaved off his moustache; he looks mostly like he did before the accident, but here and there Cel can see wisps of white hair that echo the white scales scattered over Sassraa’s body like stars. 

“Barnes is going to fight Azu,” he says once he’s settled himself to his satisfaction. “He’s convincing her now.”

Cel blinks at him and sets down their notebook. “What?”

“Barnes wants to fight Azu,” he says again, patiently. “He says he needs to practice.”

“Azu’s big,” Sassraa says. “With the armor and everything?”

“Practice weapons?” asks Cel, without much hope for it. Maybe Azu will insist. 

Carter’s expression is several conversations at once: have you met Barnes? it asks, which Cel must concede as being a valid point; we have two very good healers, it says, which only makes Cel dredge up the memory of Azu’s very sharp axe, wailing as it sliced through the air and hit things -- people! People! Like Barnes is a person! -- with a meaty thwack, powered by Azu’s excellently and usually very welcome strong arms and shoulders and they _do_ have excellent healers, better than Cel’s seen in a while, and they’re sure Barnes won’t die but Cel has a definite aversion to seeing Barnes’ insides spilling out however temporarily; and hidden in the rueful twist of his mouth, Carter says, I tried and Cel tries to say back that they know, that there’s no stopping Barnes when he’s determined to get something. 

“He’s been itching to fight someone with armor for a while,” is what Carter actually says. “He wants to know what to do to beat them if he has to.”

“Carter put money on Azu to win,” Sassraa tells Cel. 

“She wears armor,” he explains, absolutely shameless. “Barnes can hardly be bothered to wear a shirt. He’s very good but he’s not open a magic suit of plate armor with his extremely non magical sword good.”

“I heard that,” Barnes says and drops his coat onto Carter’s lap, putting his hand on Cel’s shoulder and leaning down to brush a kiss against the top of their head. “I’m going to enjoy winning your money again.”

Cel squints up at him. “Azu agreed?”

“She did. I didn’t even have to argue that long.” Barnes squeezes Cel’s shoulder. He’s holding his sword in his other hand. He is not wearing armor. He is wearing a shirt and his sole concession to the cold is in a heap on Carter’s lap . “And I don’t need to get her out of the armor to win a fight.”

Sassraa makes a humming noise in the back of their throat. “Just need to get them onto the ground.”

Barnes smiles at them. “Exactly.” There’s a tension running through him, the thrumming energy of a system ramping up to its peak. 

Cel looks around at where the rest of the airship crew is gathering into the groups they’d settled into on board. Friedrich and Siggif are arguing over something, Hamid’s heading toward Cel and the others, a folded blanket over his arm. Cel can see Skraak, but none of the other kobolds, which doesn’t mean they’re not there. 

“May I?” Hamid asks and when Cel nods, he snaps out the blanket with a flourish and it settles mostly smoothly on the ground. Hamid also pulls several bottles of wine and a jug of water out of his bag of holding, following it with bread and cheese and dried fruit, setting it out neatly. “I’ve brought food!” he says brightly and Carter leans over Cel’s legs to grab the nearest bottle.

Carter examines the label and makes an annoyed sound before handing it back and grabbing the next one. That one passes muster and he says, “How’d you know this was all happening?”

Hamid finishes rummaging around in his bag, emerging with sausage and some kind of whole roast bird that Cel would swear they’d had for breakfast. “Zolf was still shouting at Azu when I left. I expect they’ll be out soon.”

“Why isn’t he yelling at the both of you?” Cel asked Barnes.

“He probably still thinks Azu is sensible. He already thinks that Barnes is an idiot,” Carter answers. “They had a fight about it ages and ages ago.”

“He thinks I’m reckless,” says Barnes when Carter stops. “Not an idiot. He’d be more accepting if he thought I couldn’t understand risks.”

“You don’t,” said Carter around a mouthful of bread.

Barnes doesn’t bother to answer because Azu comes striding into the garden area, axe slung over one shoulder and armor glowing brightly and cheerfully pink. Kiko’s got her free hand and presses a kiss to it before bounding off to where Siggif and Friedrich are still arguing. Zolf and Wilde trail them both, Zolf’s irritation as palpable as an oncoming storm. Wilde only looks politely interested, but there’s a smile flirting around the edges of his mouth when he steers Zolf toward Cel and everyone else. 

“I’m not going to heal you!” Zolf shouts after Azu, flinging himself down onto Hamid’s blanket. “You neither,” he says to Barnes, who just shrugs. 

“Are there rules to all this?” asks Cel. They don’t generally need to practice anything once they’ve got the shape right. Or at least, they’ve never really tried practicing once they’ve got the shapes right. Mostly people run without them having to do much of anything at all, which is very nice.

Barnes “hmms?” distractedly, watching Azu move around, stretching and swinging her axe a few times back and forth, a low swipe and a higher one. “No live steel usually, not when we’ve never done this before. Or at least we blunt tips and edges.” Cel’s momentary feeling of relief is crushed when he follows it up with, “Azu says the temples don’t usually go in for that once they reach a certain level of mastery. Not a lot of chance of dying when you’re surrounded by healers. She called it a double training exercise.”

Zolf snorts. “Yeah, that sounds about right for the martial cults. Apollo’s worse for it. Not a one of them with any sense.”

Azu waves her hand and Barnes squeezes Cel’s shoulder again before walking over to her. They talk a few minutes, low and quiet, both nodding. Barnes’ back is to the rest of them, but Cel’s made a study of the way he holds himself and the set of his shoulders is relaxed and he’s tapping his sheathed sword against the side of his leg, the sort of fidget he’s usually careful to hide. 

They break and shed all the things that will just get in the way. Azu takes off her coat and wraps it around Kiko. Barnes draws his sword and sets his sword belt aside. The sword gleams even in the weak sunlight, highlighting the patterns worked carefully into the metal. It looks very sharp. Hamid lets out an appreciative sigh and from across the way, Cel can hear Azu’s low whistle of appreciation.

“What?” Sassraa asks. They lean forward, squinting at where Barnes is doing something very fancy and complicated looking with the sword that carves bright patterns into the air. 

“Old Damascus adamantine,” says Hamid. “We spent some time investigating the new adamantine factories in Damascus. It’s amazing stuff all on its own, but that’s--” He waves in Barnes’ direction. “They weren’t making anything like that in the factories.”

The tip of Sassraa’s tail flicked interestedly. “Magic?” 

“No magic,” Carter says, leaning back on his elbows and stretching out. Cel doesn’t miss that his gaze keeps skipping between Barnes and Azu like he can’t decide whose side he wants to be on more. “Just skill.”

“They’re starting,” Wilde murmurs and, abandoning his attempt to look relaxed, Carter sits up again just as Azu swings her axe. It sings as it slices through the air and Barnes dances back a step, just enough to stay out of reach. They circle around again, watching each other, and Cel wonders if the rest of the group exists for either of them now. Barnes lunges forward and there’s the brief ring of metal against metal as he scores a hit on the back of Azu’s fingers, protected by her armor. Where he’s hit, there’s a line cutting through the pink glow like a shadow and Azu shakes out her hand. They go back and forth like that a few times, a glancing blow to Azu’s armor here and Barnes dodging her axe there before they start in earnest. 

Cel draws their knees up and clasps their arms around them. Azu is fast and the long sweep of her axe is elegant and terrifying. There’s a strange kind of peace in her face that Cel doesn’t entirely understand and they think that maybe her armor is glowing more? Possibly? Even the dark scars Barnes is leaving in her armor don’t seem to bother her as she swings, two handed, into the space Barnes just moved out of and lets the haft slide down into one hand as she brings it around again, the momentum carrying it up and over and into position once more. Barnes takes the opening and closes, sword angled up as he lunges in, and when they break apart Azu has a long cut along her brow that is starting to bleed the way head wounds do. It will be in her eyes soon. She doesn’t seem bothered by that either and Barnes has to scramble back out of reach when she presses forward. 

Cel clears their throat and looks away. “Is all of the Aphrodite cult that way? It seems, ah, a little weird with the love thing?” Even as they say it, Cel can think of a hundred different ways they’re probably wrong, all the kinds of things that require a fighter and not just a lover even if the heavy armor and singing axe seem maybe a little...they seem like a lot, but people have said that about the way Cel makes things too. 

They don’t _like_ fighting as a rule. It’s necessary, sure, and of course people would be good at it, people are good at so many things which is just one of the neatest things about them, so of course there are people who are--who can take something necessary and hard and make it into something that looks beautiful. It’s just that Cel is having a hard time reconciling two of the kindest people Cel’s met recently as being the same people who are cheerfully hacking at each other with weapons, however good they make it look.

“Paladins are that way,” Zolf mutters and Wilde laughs. Cel looks away from them, trying their best to give them their moments together before everything crashes back in. 

Azu and Barnes are tangled up together, their weapons and bodies pressed close as they shift back and forth before Azu jerks back sharply, letting out a yelp and stumbling a step before she catches her balance again. Barnes closes in. 

Carter clears his throat and Cel glances at him. “The modern version of the cult is mostly focused on healing and not--” he waves at where Barnes is skipping back away from Azu’s axe, “--all that. If I had to guess, I’d bet that mostly the paladins fall under the auspices of Aphrodite Areia, not that you hear about her anymore, but--” He hisses and Cel has to look back then, in time to see Barnes hit the ground hard while Azu is backing away, limping. There is blood on the both of them.

Cel uncurls, sitting up like that’s going to get them a better view of what’s happening. It doesn’t, but Carter’s hand settles on their shin and it’s warm, even through the cloth of their trousers. Sassraa stands up, their hand resting on Cel’s shoulder as they crane upwards.

Wilde says, “They’ll be fine.” He doesn’t otherwise move from where he’s settled himself against Zolf except to nudge Zolf with his elbow. “They’re both very sensible.” Zolf scoffs.

Azu approaches Barnes carefully, axe humming a low thrumming note that Cel can barely hear when Barnes is somehow back on his feet and turning sideways, swinging low at the back of Azu’s legs where there’s no armor to protect her. She lets out a yell and goes down, followed by Barnes, who ends up sitting on top of her with his sword at her neck. She taps him on the leg and Barnes slides off to the side and groaning onto the ground. 

Cel can hear Azu ask, “Are you all right?” before the still unfamiliar sound of Barnes laughing starts up. 

“Again?” he asks and Azu’s answering laugh is loud and happy.

Zolf swears and pushes himself to his feet as Wilde sighs, getting out of his way. “No sense in either of them,” he says and stomps over to where they’re sprawled on the ground next to each other. He stands over them, fists on his hips and says, “You’re done.” 

Cel thinks they themselves would be scrambling to get away from his thunderous disapproval but Barnes and Azu just haul themselves up to sitting, leaning on each other. Azu’s beaming, still bleeding from the cut on her head and she holds out her hand to Zolf who pulls her up. It should look funny with the huge difference in height between them, but Zolf is steady as a rock and Cel thinks that maybe Barnes is pushing Azu from below. She staggers forward, leaning on Zolf as one of her legs starts to go out from under her.

“I can take care of it,” she says earnestly. “You don’t have to. Most of this is just superficial.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re not putting any weight on that leg, right?”

“I did say mostly superficial,” Azu says reproachfully. “I can tell, you know.”

“I _know_.” Zolf lets out a long breath. “Is it just the leg?”

“For me, yes.”

Zolf hauls Barnes up to his feet. “And you?”

“Just this,” he says and lifts the bottom of his shirt. From where Cel’s sitting, everything just looks very red and very bloody. Barnes sounds a little winded but cheerful when he adds, “You’ve got some reach with that when you want.”

“Yes, well, I think I got lucky with that hit,” she says.

Barnes shrugs. “A bit, or I got unlucky. Doesn’t much matter, really.”

“You’re both terrible,” Zolf says irritably and for a few seconds, everything feels lighter, like Cel can take a deep breath and the air is crisp and a taste like the aftermath of a lightning strike sits on their tongue. It feels like running a hand over a new, blank page in their notebook, that giddy rush of _I can do this_ and _I can make this better_ that gets them up in the cool, clear light when the sun is coming up and the whole day stretches out and out and out and there’s nothing to do but work. 

The moment passes like it always does but instead of leaving Cel cold like sometimes happens, the memory of it lingers like banked coals, something they can breathe life back into when they need it. 

Sassraa shakes themselves all over and stretches luxuriously from their fingers to the tip of their tail and Cel follows suit, only just noticing that the tingle in their foot from it falling asleep and the ache in their lower back and the chill that sets into their fingers whenever they stay up too late are all gone. When they look back at Zolf and Azu and Barnes, Azu’s not leaning on Zolf or Barnes anymore and Barnes looks...pretty much the same as always, actually. Bloodier, but looser in his walk and the set of his shoulders as he picks up his scabbard and uses a cleaner bit of his shirt to clean off his sword as he wanders back to them. Azu waves but heads toward Kiko, still wrapped in Azu’s coat.

When he gets close enough, Carter rolls up onto his knees and grabs the hem of Barnes’ shirt, pulling him closer. Carter shoves the shirt up until he can see most of Barnes’ stomach. The worst of it is the scar from the tree, which Carter runs his fingers over, and some older scars from other fights. There’s nothing under the worst patch of drying blood.

“I’m fine,” Barnes says patiently. 

Carter snorts. “You’re an idiot.”

It has the cadence of a familiar argument and Wilde interrupts it by saying, “Did you learn what you meant to?”

“I’d hate to take on a paladin alone is what I learned.”

“But you can?” 

“Yeah, I reckon so. Long enough to buy you time, anyway.” Barnes pulls off his shirt, having reasonably given it up as a lost cause, and grabs his coat up from where Carter’s dropped it and shrugs it on.

Zolf beats Cel and, by the look on his face, Hamid to the question of, “Why would you have to fight a paladin?”

Barnes sits down between Cel and Carter. “Going up against the cult of Hades, aren’t we? Stands to reason they’d have paladins. Sailors don’t so much go in for armor, really, so I wasn’t entirely sure I could get through it.”

Zolf narrows his eyes at Barnes, then at Wilde. “Did you put him up to this?” 

Wilde holds up his hands, looking innocent. “It was entirely his idea.”

“Which you didn’t discourage,” says Zolf.

“You can get through it though?” Wilde asks, ignoring Zolf’s glare.

Barnes takes the neat little sandwich Carter hands him, constructed out of all the food Carter’s stolen from Hamid’s picnic hamper. “I could, yeah. It’d take ages, though. Better to get them where the armor doesn’t cover.”

“It was a test?” asks Cel just as Barnes takes an enormous bite of his sandwich.

“I lost money on this,” Carter says.

Barnes shrugs one shoulder and when he’s done eating, says, “I’d rather find out I can’t get through something like Azu’s armor when the only thing I’d lose is money.”

“Do you really think we’re going to fight the cult of Hades?” asks Hamid. 

Wilde sighs and Cel can hear the exhaustion in it, even though his face and body don’t show it anymore. “You’ve already fought them, Hamid. I’d be a fool not to expect more of them. And everyone else besides.”

Cel takes Barnes’ hand in their own and he smiles at them, squeezing their hand reassuringly. Long enough to buy time, he’d said, and it sticks in Cel’s head, dropping alongside Zolf’s pushiness and Carter’s drinking and Wilde’s initial coolness as something to think about when they have more time.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. In my not-secret-at-all heart of hearts, Barnes shows Cel a very good time after this.  
> 2\. One of my favorite things is that all the cults have wild opinions about the other cults and I thought I'd let Zolf in on that action.  
> 3\. Carter is processing many emotions and also trying to show off to impress Cel with knowledge, because Cel is smart and Carter wants Cel to think he's smart, For Reasons.  
> 4\. in a world with relatively abundant magical healing, i have to believe that people would have wildly different definitions of acceptable risks.


End file.
